A Familiar Sense of Home
by Pirate College Graduate
Summary: Ennis attends his daughter's wedding, and is presented with his past, present, and future.


**This is just what I think could've happened after the film/book ended. It takes from the short story and film simultaneously.**

It's the furious glint of the sun through the bent and broken shades that causes Ennis Del Mar to wake that morning. Eyes temporarily sewn together with a crust that can only indicate a good night's sleep, he brushes them away lightly and stands, stretching his body forwards and backwards, feeling the air pockets open in his back, the joints unwind. He pulls out the coffee pot from underneath the bed and slams it on the stove, turning it up as high as it'll go; this morning he's not got the time for yawning.

After the black liquid fills his thermos he yanks at the doorknob, willing her to open, cause you know how the doors stick in the middle of winter. He locates the nearest icicle and breaks off a small piece, lightly placing it inside the steaming cup. A few small particles jump out, cling to his shirt.

"Shit," he mutters, placing spit on his thumb and rubbing all he can until the stains are nothing more than an afterthought. This suit he's got on don't feel right against his body. Jeans and button downs and naked bodies are all that he's used to pressing up against him these days; hairy bodies that grind and stink and make sounds similar to a carburetor. But they get the job done, and today this suit's gonna get the job done too. Cause today, for the first time today (he sure hopes. Ain't nothing expensive like a divorce, he knows) his little girl is getting married, to Kurt, that fella that sure loves his daughter enough to bend down on one knee.

He collects the gifts for them in one hand, a nice set of silverware and some model cars, (cause he knows how much Alma Jr. loves those, and he figures Kurt will too) and his keys in the other, coffee pressed against the black part of his suit, where he's sure the stains will make no difference. He holds the envelope in his mouth containing the child support for Alma and Monroe between his lips, his dry lips that hardly seem to produce moisture anymore thanks to the cold winds. He's put the money in some fancy envelope he found at the grocer. Might as well be as generous and up-to-do as he can be on a day like this, when his only responsibility for the wedding is to show up and walk his girl down the aisle.

The grasslands stretch out from every side of the trailer, eventually leading to the small hills that provide a kind of barrier to his isolated fortress. He'd moved a few months before from the piece of shit white trailer that barely had a support to stand on. _I figured I'm getting up there in years, could use the peace and quiet_, he'd told the realtor before tossing him the keys and stepping up into his pickup. He'd left most of the furniture behind, figuring it wasn't worth nothing in stores and knowing that he needed to make a right change, to attempt to sweep up the disheveled memories of his past and cast them aside in the corner with the dust and spider webs. But the contents, those two pieces of Jack that he kept in his closet and only glanced at when the pain came to a head, those were the first to go.

After starting the car he allows his eyes to well with tears before wiping them away with the back of his hand, his other hand dancing across the steering wheel with an anxiety that isn't entirely foreign to him. Times like these, when he was thrust back into the life he once knew, with Alma's eyes boring into him and Monroe staring at him with an almost sympathetic smiles, are not moments he exactly wants to repeat. But after that small glimmer of hope on Alma Jr.'s face that day in his old trailer, he knew there was no other option. The sun begins to cast its rays farther into the Earth, until they reach the inside of the vehicle, blinding Ennis temporarily before he pulls his visor down. His hands subconsciously brush along the postcard that is pinned there until he finds a permanent spot for it. He knows the words on the back of it by heart. _Drop me a line if you can, say if your there._ And this is what he mutters under his breath as he drives down the road, hands gripping the steering wheel, wondering where in creation Jack Twist has wandered off to.

He arrives at the church around ten, just as Jenny had told him in her recent phone call, parks his truck next to Eagles, AMCs, regular Ford Trucks. Nothing fancy in this neck of the woods. From his rear-view mirror he can see Alma standing outside the doors, smoking a newly-lit cigarette, her breath creating small clouds in the cold air, watching him with the same look she'd given him the day of their divorce, the same look she's given him ever since. He gathers up the gifts and envelope in his arms and opens the door slowly, turning to look at her directly. Her expression stays the same but she gives him a tiny nod before throwing her cigarette to the ground, stomping it out, and stepping back inside. _Some things just don't change._ He can see Alma Jr. pushing past her momma and smiling as she runs towards her daddy before wrapping her thin arms around him. She's still in a sweatshirt and jeans.

"I'm so glad you're here," she says, and he knows she means it.

"What are you doin' out here? Aren't you supposed to be fixing your hair all pretty and putting on your dress?" A man comes out the door behind her, tall, skinny, a bit buck-toothed.

"Well, I told Kurt that I didn't want to start getting ready until my special guest had arrived," she said. Ennis bows his head, unsure how to take the compliment.

Kurt raised his hand to meet Ennis's. "It's nice to meet you, finally, sir." A decent handshake and good enough manners. He figures his little girl was in decent hands.

After more introductions Ennis retreats inside where it's warm, sending Alma Jr. with her mother and Kurt with his buddies. He makes his way into the chapel hall, where presents are being collected and well-wishes are on everyone's tongue. He sees that Monroe has been put in charge of the catered food, which includes lovely finger foods and a hefty shrimp tray. He drops his gifts off, both wrapped in cheap, white wrapping paper he found at the dollar store down the road from his place, which look plain and small compared to the gifts that surround them. He nods at Monroe, hands him the envelope, and Monroe gives him a genuine smile and a nod as he grabs two shrimps, dips them hurriedly in sauce, and swallows them back before discarding their tails and washing the rest back with a small cup of punch, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He looks to his right and sees Alma staring over at him, a small smile present on her lips for only a second before she looks away. He repeats the mantra in his head. _Some things just don't change_.

He smiles back briefly before readying himself for Alma Jr. to take her place next to him. Then, there it is. A slight pain just behind his chest, one that he hasn't felt in the past few weeks but seems to make its presence known at the most inconvenient times, like when he's on the job, or when his legs are spread, his mind miles from here, off in some distant paradise. It always has a way of bringing him back down to earth. He coughs and grunts, clutching the wounded area momentarily before straightening himself back up. Jenny's left her place in line to attend to him.

"It's nothing," he says to her, shaking it off. "Just some indigestion." He shoos her back towards the other bridesmaids, who look impatient, nervous, like this thing could start any minute now. She rejoins them but keeps looking back at him with concern. He smiles as best he can, waving his hand at her and keeping his eyes forward, and while the weight of the pain is gone, its aftershocks still rumble through his body.

He's brought out of his daze by a tug on his sleeve, and as he looks down, the person who was once his little girl is staring up at him. He hasn't seen her look this gorgeous since she took Troy to prom that one year, when he and Alma were forced to stand next to one another and act like a happy family while they cooed and congratulated the pair before sending them off for the evening. Her hair is gathered up into a bun, her eye make up a sparkly silver, her lips a calm shade of pink. Her dress, a traditional white gown, falls effortlessly to the floor in folds. Her bouquet is some flower that more or less resembles a weed, but hey, it's her day. He smiles and lifts his arm, wonders why it feels numb as she loops her arm through his, and their eyes simultaneously lock on the long path that leads to the alter. The flower girl, little Lucy, who's a spitting image of Monroe with just a little bit of Alma, drops petals carelessly down the aisle before running to the front and throwing her basket aside, her body caught in the arms of her momma, who waits by the alter with the other maids of honor. The right amount of laughter fills the room, and even Ennis has to crack a smile. On the other side, boys who might as well be Kurt they're so similar in appearance, line the other side, making up the wall of impenetrable groomsmen.

"I can't thank you enough, daddy," Alma Jr. whispers as she looks up to him, their steps slower now. Words don't come easy for him, never have, so he just squeezes her arm tighter, ignores the pain that shoots up both arms, smiles down at her but bites his tongue behind his lips. It's at this time that Jack Twist chooses to enter his thoughts.

_It's on some lonely mountain in some lonely county, the location of the scene not really important. His arm's been hurting him something fierce after all the lassoing he's had to do, and he just can't seem to shake his joints back together. _

"_Let me, cowboy," Jack says, comes up behind him and presses a kiss to his ear before grabbing his shoulders, working them until there's no sense of tenseness and Ennis pulls Jack to sit beside him, rubbing his arms and pressing his lips to his cheek in a silent thanks. _

He turns to look straight ahead, then to Alma, then to Jenny, then to Alma Jr.; his girls, all of his girls in one room, under one roof, the way it could've been. He smiles and the pain seeks a type of revenge, makes itself known ten-fold. He can feel his body fall to the floor, his grip on junior loosened and eventually broken despite his best efforts. The weight of a fully-grown bull is pressed against his chest, or so it feels. It's becoming hard to breathe, and the screams and jostling of his body by those around him soon begin to fade as a new image enters his mind. It's the image of pure white, a pure white scene that could be snow, or a white blanket, or the blank spot in his mind that he can escape to when the pain is overbearing. And with the image of white comes the scent of grass and cigarettes and something sweet, like flowers, and it's this mix of a familiar bouquet that surrounds him, penetrates his pores. And it's at this moment that he knows, knows in his soul and the soles of his boots, that he's finally home. _  
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End file.
